Making Dens

I have a plane
One of the few with roundels on its wings
Lullaby for me and for you
When it flies high, it sings

Rock me to sleep with que sera
Dear mom, do you suppose?
As I feel my eyelids close
The other side is not so far

I dug a hole under the ground
Made myself a den
It's there that I can be found
Not if you return, but when

There's a place, place called hell
I've spend some time there
In the dark I cast a spell
To bury all, all of my fears

Oh, Dymphna!
Oh, Dymphna!
Oh, Dymphna!
I would that I could spell your name

Once I fell from a great height
"Are you ready? I've come for you"
A voice spoke from a pool of light
"Not yet" I said, "I've got some things to do"

And all this time I've been making dens
And I'm still making them now
And I know, I know I can never make amends
But I've got to reach you somehow

I can tie my laces, oh (ohh, ooh oh)
On my own shoes and I can (ohh, oh)
Count up to thirty two

Oh, Dymphna!
Oh, Dymphna!
Oh, Dymphna!
I would that I could spell your name

I'm sorry, there are so few words
One day I ran out
And I waited a long time
And I never, never came back
I see you often in everyday places
And I want to call out, but I can't find the words

But I can't find the words
But I can't find the words
And I can't find the words
And I can't find the words
And I can't find the words
And I can't find the words
They won't come